Perfection: Impossible
by PfenixB
Summary: An ill-timed visit from Cid's mother is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Vincent can sympathize with said camel. A "chapter" of "Perfection," sequel to "Prelude to Perfection." So yes, slash. T for language; suggestive themes.


***glaring bold print* Read the author's notes first, please!**

*waves* We're still here! Sorry it took so long! You have no idea how many pieces we've had to rewrite and rewrite and rewrite...*whew* The total amount of pages we threw out? More than 60. That is discouraging, as I'm sure you can all imagine.

So let me explain this. "Perfection" is a series of related oneshots and the occasional two- or three- parter following our "Prelude to Perfection". Reading _PtP _is not necessary, but is highly recommended, as it explains the development of this relationship. The "chapters" of _Perfection _will all be listed as separate stories, as we are not posting in chronological order. I will keep a list on my profile that will tell chronological order, so you know what sort of interaction and such to expect. Any questions can be emailed or PM'ed or left in comments, and we will consider any suggestions as well, but you probably won't see the product of those suggestions until _much_ later, as we still have a lot to do, and the original plan will come first. That said, this is a work-in-progress, and an extremely tricky one at that, so I wouldn't expect updates to be very regular. We will try to space things out enough that you never have to wait more than a month, but note that I say _try_. There are no promises.

So without further ado, we present to you "Perfection" with sincerest wishes that you enjoy it...and that you remember how much feedback inspires us ^^

-PfenixB and calvi-sama.

Note: link to Calvi's LJ is listed on my profile as well =D

**You may now continue to the story :D**

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"Dammit, Cid!" Vincent yelled from his position under the sink, "I don't know what you think you're going to achieve by having me work on this-" he was interrupted by a blast of water right in his face. Cursing he dragged himself out from under the sink, desperately trying to protect himself from the pressurized blast. Peeking around his hand and squinting he located the shut-off for the water and only just managed to get the damned thing turned off when he heard pounding on the front door. Dripping and in a spectacularly foul mood, the gunman stood, toweled off his face and went to the front door, wrenching it open and taking a deep breath, prepared to give it to whomever had decided to drop by unexpectedly.

What met him instead was a tiny wisp of a woman who seemed in a similarly foul mood. She beat him to the punch…verbally speaking.

"Where is he?" She said trying to peek around him.

"Madam, where is whom?" Vincent said irritably, dragging lank and stringy hair out of his face, not in the mood to deal with this irate little woman.

"Cid _Highwind_, I _know_ you're in there!" she screeched, trying to push past him.

Vincent winced at her shrill voice, "Now just a moment Madam." He said, catching her as gently as he could about the shoulders and pushing her back a step, "just who do you think you are…"

"His mother, boy, now stand back and let me at the thankless, no-good, lazy, piece-o-shit whelp I had the misfortune to birth!"

She tried to push past him and Vincent had to rather firmly hold her back, "Madam, if you would just wait a moment, I'll go and get him for you." Before she could say anything else, he quickly withdrew his hands from her shoulders, shut the door in her face, and, upon consideration, locked it for good measure. It was a good thing too, because almost immediately she started rattling the doorknob and yelling…obscenities?

_That has to be his mother_, Vincent thought smugly as he went to locate his lover. Finding him napping on the bed did nothing to lighten his mood as he stood dripping in the doorway. "Cid!" he barked, taking a perverse delight in seeing Cid jump and flip onto the floor with a yelp of surprise, "There is an insane woman locked outside our front door, ranting that she is your mother. But she is the least of your worries right now, as I am requiring a damned good explanation why I am attempting to fix the kitchen sink while you feel the need to baby-sit the bed."

"Guess y'don't remember what happened last time I tried t'fix it," Cid countered groggily. "Thought you might have better luck, s'all." He stood and stretched, noticing with chagrin that Vincent was still glaring at him. "Aw, c'mon, y'know we were up late last night. An' I need m'beauty sleep. I'll fix it after we deal with 'er, okay?" Vincent did not seem overly pleased with the inclusion of himself in the party meant to deal with the "insane woman." "Oh, all right," Cid said. "I'll go see 'er. F'it makes ya feel any better, that is m'momma. Nobody yells like she does." He headed for the front door, bracing himself for the outburst. As he opened it, he immediately began spouting words. "Hey, Momma. I know it's been a long time an' I ain't been t'see ya an' I'm a lazy good-fer-nothin' idiot who don't even s'much as write letters to 'is mother an'-"

"Quitcher yappin', boy. I ain't takin' none o' yer shit." Mia drew herself up to her full 5' 3". "You give your momma a kiss an' you do it right now."

Smiling, Cid leaned forward and kissed her cheek. He shot Vincent a look from the corner of his eye. "C'mon in, Momma, an' make yerself at home. Kitchen's a mess right now, but that's just 'cause we're…well, _Vince_ is workin' on it."

Mia let her eyes wander over Vincent in a scrutinizing manner. "Who's he? The butler? Damn, boy, don't tell me y're that rich an' ain't sent me none of it!"

"I can assure you, madam, that I am _not_ the butler." Vincent answered through clenched teeth while glaring at Cid. But the woman apparently had dismissed him and proceeded to fuss over Cid, which was just fine with him. He went back into the kitchen and began cleaning up the horrendous mess; using several towels, he sopped up the water then threw the tools back into their toolbox while thinking he might just go outside while Cid dealt with his "mother" and kill a small animal. Galian needed to be fed, and the neighbor's dog was getting on his nerves. First, he needed to change out of these wet clothes. Straightening up he walked back out into the sitting room and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Well, make yerself useful, young man, 'n fetch me some tea!" Mia sniffed, flicking her wrist at him.

Vincent stood there blinking before slowly moving his gaze to rest on Cid, positively radiating_, "Fix this or you're sleeping on the couch for the rest of this month at least, 'cause you're not coming near me," _ before walking right past the woman and back into their bedroom where he dropped the toolbox with a clang and began rummaging around in his closet for Cerberus.

Cid would have fixed it anyway, and very soon, because he would not have his mother ordering Vincent around like that. A couch threat would have been unnecessary, so it was just as well Vincent hadn't voiced it. "A' right, let's try this again. He ain't a butler. He ain't a servant. We ain't really even all that rich. He's…well, you oughta be able t'figure out fer yerself, huh? M'so fuckin' in love with him, s'like…well, I dunno what it's like. I just know there ain't nothin' better. Hang on a minute, momma, wouldja?"

Mia shook her head slowly as she watched Cid follow Vincent down the hall. She'd almost thought that by now he might have grown out of that stage, moved on to find a nice young woman to marry and have children with- but in all honesty, she had never really harbored that much hope about it. Still, no one was good enough for her son, so butler or no, this Vincent character had his work cut out for him if he hoped to gain her favor.

Cid dropped down next to Vincent and slung an arm across his shoulders. "What is it gotcha so upset, honey? It can't just be her an' the sink. I know you better'n'at. Can I…c'n I fix it, whatever it is? I can't promise c'ncernin' her," he jerked his head in the direction of the living room, "but she'll be gone by th'end o' the day f'I have anything t'say about it. I'm gonna take care o' what's left t'handle in the kitchen. What else c'n I do? You just tell me an' I will."

There was a 'click' and Vincent brought Cerberus up and under Cid's jaw, "You can give me space. That's what you can do, Cid." He narrowed his eyes, "It's not just the sink, or your mother's ill-timing. It's a lot of things. The mess, this lackadaisical attitude of yours, the things that need fixing around here but somehow always find a way to be put off. I can't keep up with it all, and that's to say if I even know what the hell I'm I doing in the first place. Now, I'm going to change into something dry. I'm going to step outside and shoot for a little while. Then I'm going to come back inside and be properly introduced to your mother, and we'll see how things go from there. Okay?"

Cid threw up his hands. "Hey, all right! All right." _Helluva time t'pick a fight…_ "You have- well, just be- I'll see ya when y'get back."

Surprisingly, the brief audio clip of threatening tones and the little bit of yelling did not amuse Mia. She was worried. And when Vincent walked out, quietly storming, she knew something was wrong. Cid stepped back into the room, smiling for but looking lost and dazed. _Did I do it? Whatever just happened, is that my fault? He wouldn't tell me if I asked_, she observed, watching as Cid reclaimed his seat across from her and began chattering again.

_Space._ In this context, Cid knew that "needing space" was often nothing but a prelude to moving on, to leaving behind. Part of him was scared to death at that possibility, but he was certain that he was just being silly. Still, trying to imagine life without Vincent now, after all they'd been through…he couldn't do it, couldn't even allow himself to try. Stopping his mindless babbling dead in its tracks, he asked, "How do I fix it?" He wasn't asking his mother…or the man on the television claiming that the average person was at least a few thousand dollars in debt. Panicking slightly, he looked around and saw that Vincent was right; the place was a mess. Things that needed to be fixed were put off for later because the majority of them were so _simple_ that Cid brushed them off. "Momma, whaddaya say t'helpin' me clean up a little? Might put 'im in a better mood." He let out an amused huff. "I c'n make 'im so happy when I try. When'd I quit tryin'? Shouldn't hafta try. Should be natchrel."

Striding into the backyard where he and Cid had constructed an elaborate shooting range for him, Vincent felt himself slowly begin to relax as he raised Cerberus to the first target, slipping into that calm that always possessed him when shooting. It was a perfect way for him to relax, providing an outlet for his pent-up aggression. He leaned down and hit the button that started the mechanized portion of the range running. Shortly he was engrossed in the point-n-shoot of this little game. The more difficult parts of the range included tiny targets that moved in an out behind shields at various speeds and he narrowed his eyes in concentration.

Cerberus was loud, and fortunately what few neighbors they had on their little dead-end street had quickly become accustomed to the noise…that and having stared down the barrel of the offending noise-maker and the red eyes of its owner served to make the point that Vincent was not to be denied this little slice of "peace" in his life. Several hours later, he was finally satisfied that he was defused enough to handle this most recent upset that had decided to make itself known. Holstering Cerberus, he began picking up the spent shells.

Mia and Cid had spent that time tidying up and talking. They had agreed that perhaps it would be best for Mia to visit another time, possibly with a warning. Finally, she and Cid settled on a date and agreed to meet for lunch at a small café outside of Kalm. The invitation would be extended to Vincent if he wanted to join them, but Cid had a feeling he would not. When Vincent returned, Cid was finishing with the kitchen sink, kneeling on the wet towels placed in front of the cabinets. "Hey. Just missed 'er. She wanted t'be home b'fore dark." He didn't know what to say, and he assumed he was better off not mentioning anything about space or shooting or anything else pertaining to their little episode from earlier. "Dinner's in th'oven. Oughta be done in 'bout half an hour."

Vincent noticed the suddenly tidied home and miraculously fixed kitchen sink. He snorted. "Not hungry," he grunted, and retreated into their room. He placed Cerberus back in the closet and promptly locked himself into the bathroom. Leaning on the counter, he let his head hang down between his shoulders and sighed. What was his problem? He knew this was how Cid was and yet _now_ he gets upset? It just felt like it was all coming to a head. He'd let it go, and go, and go, only to have it just overwhelm him quite suddenly. He walked over and flipped the tap on for a cold shower. Stripping quickly he got in and forced himself under the spray, each drop like a tiny burning needle on his flesh as his genitals screeched in protest and shrunk up against his body. Almost immediately he began shivering and teeth began chattering, but still he just stood there. Maybe they needed a little time apart? No, that thought didn't sit well with him, but what else was there to do? They needed to talk about it, certainly, but Cid never took anything seriously. Or at least he never appeared to, and that just got him riled up all over again. But he had to try at least. He didn't want this to be the end of their relationship, far from it. He didn't think he could live without Cid, but something had to give. Finally, when his extremities were numb and his lips quite blue, he turned off the water and quickly dried off. Then, with towel wrapped about his waist he opened the bathroom door and nearly ran headfirst into Cid, who looked a little upset.

Without making eye contact, Cid politely stepped aside to let Vincent through and headed back into the kitchen to take the chicken from the oven. He fussed over it for as long as he would let himself, then fixed himself a plate and took a seat at the table. This was not good, and they had to fix it soon or it might never be good again. But how to go about it? Cid snorted, thinking that if he approached Vincent, there would be trouble because he wasn't giving him enough space, and if he left it up to Vincent to initiate the discussion, there would be trouble about Cid expecting Vincent to handle everything. He ate in silence after that, swallowing as if it every bite was a chore. When he was finished, he washed his plate and simply sat again, staring at the table like it would explain to him how to resolve this latest conflict.

Vincent gritted his teeth and rummaged around in his closet. He found a set of worn, comfortable leathers and pulled them on. This sulking nonsense that Cid had plunged himself into was _it_. They needed space. Now. Growling softly, he retrieved Cerberus yet again, strapped it to his thigh and pulled on his cloak. He bound up his hair and exited the room. He stood in front of Cid who sat immobile, looking down at the table, and said, "Unless you've got something to say to me, I'm leaving. I don't know for how long, but I think it's best if we give ourselves some time to figure out just what it is that we want, or expect from each other."

Cid looked sadly up at Vincent, smiling as well as he could. "If that's what y'think y'need, Vince, I won't try t'stop ya. But dammit Vin, I…I'm just tryin'a be who I was. B'fore, y'know? B'fore it all. Figurin' out it ain't gonna work. Hell, I always knew it. I know there ain't no goin' back, ever. But I ain't…I ain't even who I was when we first started lovin' each other. This…this is harder t'handle than bein' at war, fer me. 'Cause now I know fer sure ain't nobody gonna come along an' say they're startin' up a space program an' they need me…an' even if they do, I'm too old now. They're gonna want somebody younger, better lookin'. M'havin' t'come t'terms with all that, an' I been puttin' it off like ever'thin' else, 'cause it's easier t'just do nothing. But now I know I can't do that anymore, 'cause I ain't alone. I ain't done right by you an' I know it, an' I'm sorry." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as he stood. He wanted to put his arms around Vincent but just opened them in invitation instead. "Just know that this door'll always be open for ya, if y'do wanna go. I know y're restless. I am too, I just show it diff'rent." He had almost exhausted his supply of words for the time being, but had one more important thing to say. "I might've quit tryin', honey, but I never once loved you any less, an' I never will."

Vincent felt a queer squeezing in the vicinity of his heart. He stood there, staring at Cid, expression unreadable. Finally, as Cid began to lower his arms in defeat, he stepped forward into them, wrapping his own around the tormented pilot. Turning his head so his lips were right by Cid's ear he whispered, "It was never _just_ you, Cid. I'm as much to blame for this. I know I'm not easy to live with, and I've put demands upon you that were unreasonable." He sighed and rested his head against Cid's, "Whether I stay here or walk out that door, there will never be another for me. I want you to know that, regardless of what happens here."

"Stay t'night," Cid whispered. "Please." He projected another weak smile in Vincent's direction, leaning into the embrace. "I know y'still ain't used t'this so much, this bein' settled an' all, an' y'really ain't used t'havin' me around all the time. An' I know I c'n get real…well, affectionate…hell, clingy might even say it better, but you c'n be a damned cruel bastard sometimes, y'know? I _need_ that, need t'touch. An' I know you don't, not as much, but seems like almost any time lately I've tried t'so much as hold ya y've pushed me off. An' the more y'keep it from me, th'more I'm gonna want it, an' y'know how persistent I am. That's another thing, Vin- you gotta stop bein' quiet about what y'want. I know y'keep yer mouth shut most th'time, whether it's 'cause y'think y'don't deserve whatever it is or just 'cause y'don't wanna be a burden or somethin' like that. But if you don't tell me what you want, what y'need, I won't be able t'make sure y'get it." All this time, his hands had been resting on Vincent's shoulders, but now they gripped hard. "I c'n tone it down if you c'n quit pushin' me away. An' both of us need t'get outta the house. I got that set o' jobs w'Reeve comin' up, so that'll be somethin', but…well, I ain't tryin'a tell ya t'get a job, m'just sayin' that bein' cooped up in here ain't gonna be no better'n bein' locked in that coffin after a while." He released Vincent and pulled away, turning his head in something like shame. He should not have said some of those things, he was sure. There was not a doubt in his mind that Vincent would return if he left; he knew their love was equal, and Cid knew that he would be unable to stay away from Vincent for more than a few weeks under these circumstances. "Never be another fer me, either, if it means anything to ya." He looked up hopefully, wanting to see warmth there in Vincent's eyes again.

Vincent cocked his head, expression softening and a tiny smile teasing his lips. "It's frightening…that you know me better than I know myself sometimes." He picked up one of Cid's hands and examined the blunted, work-calloused fingers and short, ragged nails, the ground-in dirt and multiple tiny scars. He removed his glove and laced their fingers, watching as Cid closed them together. Such a contrast, his own pale and white, long-fingered and what some would arguably call "elegant." He twisted their linked hands and brought Cid's up to his mouth and kissed it lightly before looking up into Cid's eyes that watched him with trepidation, "I'm glad you me told this." He said. "The truth, while hard to hear, can be just as hard to tell…if not harder, because you never know if you're going hurt the person you're telling it to or not." He took a quiet breath and sighed it out as he continued, "But in the end, you are doing them a disservice if you keep it from them, and I admire your bravery for taking that risk. Yes, physical contact is difficult for me to take, for reasons of which you know. But I'm _trying_, Cid, I am. For once, have you considered that I might need to hold you? I'm not a fragile flower that will break so easily. I need the knowledge that I can protect someone, even if that someone is more than capable of taking care of himself. We'll find some middle ground; I'll speak up if you take more responsibility. All I need is you, Cid, and the rest is just geography."

"I know y're tryin', Vince, 'cause y're still with me. An' I know y'won't break easy, but I also know that if y'ever do break, even I might not be able t'pick up the pieces. I ain't never been scared o' you, but sometimes I'm scared for ya. N'like y'said, we c'n both take care o' ourselves…funny, ain't it, how I'd rather take care o' you than m'self?" He brought their hands from Vincent's mouth to his own, kissing the paler hand respectfully before separating them and crossing his arms over his chest. He was cold, and bed sounded good, but he would not dare try to leave now. "I'll talk t'you if you'll talk t'me. That about sum it up?"

Vincent nodded, mouth opened to speak, when a familiar smell broke through his focus. "Is that that chicken dish you made me once…the one with the blueberry sauce?" He asked interestedly, quirking his head around in the direction of the kitchen.

"Yeah," Cid replied, shuffling his feet. "I whipped up th'sauce last night; was in th'mood fer somethin' sweet. Hungry now?" he asked, grinning a little.

Vincent nodded eagerly, blushing a little. "I think I'll have a plate." His grin matched Cid's as he walked into the kitchen and pulled down a plate and snagged some silverware – which he was quite accomplished at using now – and loaded his plate, being rather generous with the sauce over his extra helping of potatoes. Lugging the whole mess over to the table, he sat down and gestured to the chair across from him, "Join me, Cid? If I'm to meet your mother- which I'm sure that I am, as I would have it no other way- I need to be filled in on what to expect."

"Don't think there's much I could say t'prepare ya fer her. An' it might be best if fer a while ya…don't. She's pissed, see. No matter what I told 'er, she thinks…well, she's decided not t'like ya. Plus she's mad as hell at me fer not vis'tin', an'…I just think we all need a little time 'fore we try that. Work things out wi'her, with you…an' then we'll see about bringin' ya t'gether. But I guess…well, she's a lot like me, only bossier an' more high-pitched. An' I don't carry a purse." He eyed the chair across from Vincent and stood behind it, leaning on the back rather than sitting in it. "Look, Vin, I don't think I c'n talk any more t'night without sayin' somethin' wrong. I'll be glad t'stand here with ya, but I don't have nothin' else t'say right now."

He was a little hurt by that, but he didn't think Cid needed to know it, not after what they had just talked about. "You usually say something wrong, Cid. By entering into a conversation with you, one tends to sign on the invisible dotted line to accept whatever faux pas or unintended insult that comes out of your mouth. But if you don't wish to talk anymore, then I won't ask you to. But it might surprise you, that I enjoy speaking with you – verbal slips and all." He gave a little chuckle then jerked with his head, "Go on. You don't want to be here, I can see that. I'll finish up and put the food away. I'm sorry I asked about your mother, and I'll respect your wishes." That said, he dug into his food with gusto. He did like this dish, and Cid had outdone himself once again.

"I don't not wanna be here," Cid revised, "I just don't have nothin'a say. Just…damn it all, who's she think she is just showin' up like that, anyway? Y'call b'fore y'visit somebody. An' y'don't start orderin' people aroun'. Just…fuckin' _hell_, Vin, I'm sorry she acted like that t'you. Pisses me right off, she does. Got no business just waltzin' up here like that." Changing his mind, Cid pulled out the chair and sat. "An' it ain't like I c'n just tell 'er t'fuck off or whatever, 'cause she is m'momma. Just…heh, I bet y're real sorry y'asked about 'er now, huh? Sorry 'bout that."

"On the contrary, Cid, I'm glad you're talking again." Vincent laughed. "I'm sorry, truly. She didn't know, and I was hardly polite myself, hell," he snorted, sticking in a potato into his mouth and chewing contently, "I shut the door right in her face and _locked_ it. I would hardly call that an acceptable 'first impression.' Would you?"

"She started it," he grumbled. "I love that old woman, I really do, but I can't fuckin' stand 'er most o' the time, y'know? Always instigatin' shit. S'why m'dad left. Plus he was just a wuss. But anyway. Good?" he asked, watching Vincent continue to empty his plate happily.

"Very," Vincent sighed happily has he polished off the last of the potatoes, having eaten the chicken earlier, and taking a moment to lean back in his chair. "You know," he started, getting up with his plate and silverware, "I thought the sauce was too sweet the first time I had this? The chicken was good, but the sauce was almost too much. Now I find that I quite like it." He set the dishes into the sink and rinsed them off, next moving to the leftovers. "It would be great over ice-cream, don't you think?" He looked over at Cid and winked.

Cid smiled. He was pretty sure he remembered every moment of that night. It had been one of his best. "Bet it'd taste even better on you," Cid teased, and then immediately said, "See? There it goes, me sayin' what I shouldn't." He laughed a little and stood to stretch as Vincent placed the last of the leftover sauce into a container, which went into the refrigerator. "Mm…" his back cracked satisfyingly, and he pushed in his chair.

Vincent grinned, walking up to wrap his arms around Cid's waist, he kissed the pilot soundly, "There's enough left; perhaps tomorrow we could try it, hn?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "Every…" he kissed Cid again, "little…" and again, "slip up." He ended with a long, open-mouthed kiss replete with a good old tonsil-swap. "C'mon, let's go to bed." Vincent led the way with Cid following with no complaints. Bedtime rituals were completed and Cid even managed to persuade Vincent to omit his sleep pants for the night. They came together, kissing and touching, in an apology that Cid performed with an elegance that robbed Vincent of breath; an apology that he most eagerly and graciously accepted.


End file.
